


Handprints and Good Grips

by littledust



Category: Sucker Punch (2011)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Fingerfucking, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:32:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1100846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/pseuds/littledust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amber and Blondie enjoy a shore leave. (Takes place in one of the war 'verses.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handprints and Good Grips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Malkontent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malkontent/gifts).



> A treat for you on Yuletide, dear recipient! I've been itching to write for this fandom and your request delighted me. The title comes from "Partition" by Beyonce.

Amber peels the wrapper off a sucker and pops it into her mouth. The sucker, not the wrapper, though that would make Blondie laugh, too. Blondie laughs a lot at the things that Amber does, which is good, because otherwise she's a _bitch_. They all love her for it, but it's nice to see her face do something else.

"God only knows how she keeps getting lollipops in wartime," Sweet Pea grumbles, speaking of faces that need to do something else. Amber's going to slip Baby Doll some cash so she can get her girl something nice. If it's Sweet Pea that's got Baby Doll this week. Whatever they worked out with Rocket, Amber has no complaint with, but she doesn't need all the gory details.

"'Cause I'm so sweet," Amber says, and pulls the sucker out so she can blow a kiss. Sweet Pea pretends to bat it away, which just goes to show the old girl has a sense of humor after all.

The General calls, "Enjoy your shore leave, ladies!" as they saunter away.

Blondie hooks an arm through Amber's. "Oh, we will," she purrs.

"Ugh," Rocket says, which means that yes, she's the one not getting laid this week. "Anyone needs me, I'll be at the bar."

Sweet Pea frowns. "You shouldn't go alone."

"I'll go in alone. I won't leave alone."

"Then that's one more thing to worry about!"

"We really don't have to stay while they work out their sibling rivalry," Amber murmurs in Blondie's ear. "We weren't going to the bar, anyway."

There are dozens of beautiful restaurants and shops in the city, even in war-torn times, but their shore leave is three days long and Amber has every intention of spending at least 48 hours in bed with Blondie. The battlefield makes you desperate, but there isn't room for much else, either tenderness or experimentation. Amber melts candied sugar on her tongue to remind herself there are sweeter things in life than spilling blood. Where she gets the money for the lollipops, well, that's between her and the General. The General's pretty good about seeing to their needs.

"C'mon. Our motel is still open for business, as far as I can tell."

While Blondie checks in, Amber picks up the supplies: a case of bottled water, a few boxes of granola bars, a bottle of shampoo, a bottle of soap, and a bag of suckers. After intense deliberation, she picks out an enormous bar of chocolate studded with pieces of strawberry.

The clerk smirks at her as she checks out. "Fun night with your boyfriend?"

"Something like that."

The motel is as grimy on the outside as ever. The sign outside declares THE RIDDLE in pink neon, for reasons known only to the owners. Amber nudges the door to Room 405 open and deposits her groceries. "Blondie?" she asks.

"Shut the door."

So it's going to be like that, then. Amber leans back against the door until it clicks shut, tongue already working along the smooth roundness of her sucker. Watermelon. The stick is on the verge of dissolving long before the candy. She swallows.

Blondie emerges from the bathroom in a white bathrobe, her hair loose and her face scrubbed of makeup. "I got lonely while you were out," she says, wrapping her arms around Amber's waist. For all Blondie and Sweet Pea try to be the toughest of them all, they're the secret marshmallows of the team.

Amber bites down on the sucker and it cracks in half. Chewing, she mumbles around the remains of candy and stick, "You're cute when you play housewife."

"Yeah, well, I cooked you something to eat."

"That's a terrible line," Amber says, but her heart speeds up anyway. She spits the stick pieces into the trash and they land dead on, another skill picked up in the army. Then she kisses Blondie slowly, her tongue circling Blondie's. When she leans back, there's a faint pop. "What are we doing today?"

"Mm. Watermelon." Blondie always goes flatteringly glaze-eyed after a proper kiss. "Talk me through it today, I think." She smacks away Amber's hand already creeping under her bathrobe. "No toys but the ones attached to you. Play with me for however long you like, do whatever you like, and then ride my face until neither of us can see straight. It's your welcome home."

"And we haven't seen each other in a long time?"

Blondie cocks her head and gives her upper lip a slow, deliberate sweep with her tongue. "A real long time."

"Okay," Amber says, mouth gone dry. "Okay."

This time, Blondie lets Amber slide her hands under her bathrobe, cupping her ass as she kisses her again. Blondie gives a little gasp when Amber squeezes, then Blondie leans forward and sinks her teeth where Amber's neck meets her shoulder. She sucks on the skin to soothe the bite, but she's definitely left a mark. Amber's knees give a single quiver as heat throbs between her legs.

"I don't think you've been a good girl while I was away," she says, giving Blondie's ass a final squeeze before she untangles Blondie's arms from around her.

"Not at all," Blondie says, and lets her bathrobe fall to the floor. It makes a white terrycloth puddle at her feet, which she kicks to the side. Blondie saunters toward the bed, glancing over her shoulder. "Coming?"

"Give me a minute to appreciate the view."

Of course, then Blondie turns her two-foot journey to the bed into a whole production, complete with ass-shaking and bending over to pick up a fallen pen. She laughs at the pen part, as does Amber; they like playing games with each other, but they're always _games_. Then Blondie climbs into the bed, lying spread eagle on the white sheets, and things get serious. Still fun, but serious.

"On all fours, please," Amber says, unbuttoning her blouse. She tosses it into a corner, then unhooks her bra, which joins her blouse. Her breasts feel heavy, aching to fill someone else's hands. She leaves trousers and boots on as she approaches the bed, positioning herself behind Blondie.

"I guess now's the time you tell me how naughty I am," Blondie says, wiggling happily.

Amber reaches out and trails a hand down the back of Blondie's thigh, watching her shiver. "I wouldn't use those exact words. More like very, very good at being bad." She runs her hand back up, this time along Blondie's inner thigh. Then she leans back. "Are you ready?"

Blondie turns her head to shoot her a scathing look. "Do you even have to ask?"

"I like to ask."

"Shut up and spank me, army husband."

Pure Blondie. Amber's lips twitch as she raises her hand. The first slap is hard enough to make her hand tingle and leave a red handprint on Blondie's ass, so she takes a second to shake out her hand. "Come _on,_ " Blondie groans, so the second slap is just as hard, followed by a lighter one. "Give it to me good."

"I will," Amber promises, the next touch of her hands a light stroke, one that ends with her digging her fingernails in. Blondie hisses in approval. "Are you ready for how good it will be? How good it will be for such a bad girl?"

Blondie tosses her hair and arches her back, her ass curving even rounder on the sheets. "So good," she says, fingers knotted around the sheets. The room already smells like sex, but Amber wants to feel how wet she is against her fingers. Soon enough.

Amber spanks Blondie until she's moaning even between strikes, her face buried in the pillows and her legs spread as far as they can go while still holding her up in the requested position. Both asscheeks are red, so red that Amber has to massage them, kneading the sensitized skin until Blondie's moans turn to whimpers.

"Good?" she asks.

"Uh-huh," Blondie manages. "Uh-huh, please, please..."

If this were the second or third day, Amber would push, would tease Blondie until tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. But it's their first day, their first round, and Amber's already on the verge of crossing her legs, squeezing her thighs together until she comes just from the movement. "Lie down," Amber says.

Blondie rolls over in a heap. Amber climbs on top of her, parting Blondie's legs again with one of hers, pressing a quick kiss to Blondie's lips before nuzzling at her neck, then along her collarbone, then between her breasts...

"Please," Blondie repeats, between two ragged breaths.

"If the wife requests," Amber says, and rolls onto her side, propping herself up with her elbow. She slides her hand between Blondie's legs, and yes, there it is: her cunt so wet the very tops of her inner thighs are slippery with it. She slides her index and middle finger inside Blondie, her thrusts slow to start, fingers curled like half a set of quotation marks. Blondie moans, her hips bucking faster than the motion, calling for Amber to speed up. She's embarrassingly easy to get off like this, far easier than Amber's ever been able to do for herself.

"You're going to come too soon," Amber says, but when Blondie makes a whining noise, she keeps going. It's the first day. They have all the time in the world to torture each other. "Guess you missed me while I was gone."

Blondie shouts when she comes, an honest-to-God hoarse _yell_ that will probably earn them a few neighbors pounding on their door before the weekend is over. Amber keeps up her rhythm despite the slight ache in her wrist, letting her ride the orgasm all the way home.

"Fuck," Blondie says when Amber sits back up, straddling her around the waist. "Fuck, I need a minute."

"I thought you wanted to welcome me home," says Amber, licking her sticky fingers. Not watermelon, still good. Or bad, considering their conversation earlier. She cups one of her own breasts with her other hand, rolling the nipple between her fingers.

"Help me. Take off your clothes."

Amber doesn't wait for her to ask twice, shimmying out of boots and trousers and panties, all the while cursing up a blue streak at her clothing choices. Blondie laughs throughout, lazy at first, then full-throated. By the time Amber is straddling her again, she's recovered.

"Sit on my face," Blondie orders.

Her knees are shaking. Amber braces herself against the headboard as she gets into position. Her knuckles turn white with the force of her grip, but it's all she can do to hold on when Blondie says something muffled against her cunt. It sounds like, "Welcome home, soldier."

"You're ridiculous," gasps Amber. Her hips roll forward when Blondie licks at her in earnest, the tip of her tongue fitting just inside her before she sweeps her tongue back up and around her clit, maddeningly close. "I hate you," Amber says for good measure.

"Mm," Blondie hums, and circles her clit again. Amber inhales and almost loses her balance; her hands slam against the wall.

"I swear to God," Amber groans, but loses the rest of what she meant to say. The words dissolve with the rolling rhythm of her hips, rocking herself, _fucking_ herself against Blondie's mouth, that oh so clever tongue that she usually sharpens on them, except now it's soft, it's so soft, but firm, and wet. She's panting now, and so slick Blondie reaches up to grip her hips to keep her from sliding away. Stars burst behind her eyes; she wasn't aware she had them shut. The noises have stopped except for the squeak of the mattress. She's holding her breath. She's--

"Gonna come," she says, then takes another breath to hold without exhaling the first one. Back and forth, rolling up and over, Blondie underneath, and her arms braced overhead, all her muscles tensing in preparation, one last bomb blast of pleasure.

And she comes, quieter than Blondie, but slamming her fists into the wall.

When Amber collects herself enough to peel her forehead off the wall and roll over, Blondie is grinning smugly, her face shiny and wet. "Good game," she says, stretching her entire body. Amber can hear joints popping. "Nap, water, second round?"

"Water, nap, second round," Amber corrects. "When I can move."

Blondie touches her shoulder. "But good game?"

Then Amber has to lean over to kiss her, sweet as candy. "Good game."


End file.
